


(Literally) Cookie Cutter

by Ardry



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Cat is too smart for her own good, F/F, Kara is so bad at excuses, holiday themed fluff, the 'we both know but we don't talk about it' one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9018922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ardry/pseuds/Ardry
Summary: Cat watches Supergirl tap an egg against the edge of the mixing bowl, probably as careful as she can muster. Egg yolk and shells go flying through her kitchen as the egg detonates like a grenade, and it takes all of Cat’s manners not to laugh as she offers Supergirl a dishcloth to wipe the goo off her fingers.“That makes five.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [karas-adorable-smile (Coara)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coara/gifts).



> A short ficlet written for the Supergirl Secret Santa Femslash Exchange. The prompt was 'baking christmas themed cookies'.  
> karas-adorable-smile, a wonderful christmas to you, and I hope this was at least somehow what you were thinking of :)

“I assure you, I am fine.”  
Usually, Cat Grant would have been thrilled to see Supergirl in her apartment. She is not so thrilled now that said heroine is standing in her kitchen, of all places, making an absolutely heroic effort not to laugh while she stares at Cat’s oven. 

“Just how did you manage to burn those this badly, Miss Grant?” Supergirl picks up one of the admittedly rather dark cookies, and holds it up to her face for closer examination. Cat’s sure that the corners of the kryptionians mouth are twitching again.

“As much as I would usually welcome an opportunity to ask wether you celebrate christmas with your oh so famous cousin, but right now I think I’d prefer it if you’d leave me alone to drink away this humiliation.” 

Cat sees Supergirl’s feet leave the floor as she starts to levitate, and for a moment Cat is almost sure that the hero will do as she asked of her. But of course heroes never take the easy path, and all Supergirl does before she’s back on the ground is place the smoke detector back on the wall. She had grabbed it to turn it off just moments before, after realizing that the alarm hadn’t been caused by an actual fire in Cat’s house, but just by some cookies that might have been in the oven for too long. 

Cat takes one of them off the tray , gives it a closer look, and wishes she had an assistant she could fire for this. She definitely should have taken them out earlier. They are crispy. Dark. Maybe saying they look like very nicely shaped lumps of coal is closer to the truth. If it hadn’t been for Supergirl’s freezing breath, she probably still wouldn’t be able to even touch them. 

“I had no idea a woman in your position has the time for baking, Miss Grant.”  
Almost, Cat jumps at the sudden voice behind her. She remembers that being shocked is not chic, so she changes her face to a look of mild annoyance before she turns around to look at Supergirl again. 

“Oh please. If I listened to people about what I have time for, I would not be in a position where they want to tell me what I have time for.”  
Cat has given up on being a people pleaser a long time ago. She does not need their approval, and she doesn’t want it. There is something way more rewarding about making people want to please her.  
But there is always one exception to the rule, and she feels like she has just let down her one exception. Cat is not used to being a failure, and this one gnaws at her.

“So you were doing it for fun?”  
Supergirl is smiling, and briefly, Cat wonders if heroes could come with built-in curtains, so that they could be closed against the shine.  
“No. I was doing it because it’s only a few days until christmas. You aren’t supposed to have fun around christmas, we are living in a capitalist society. You are supposed to run around and spend a lot of money to keep up apperances. Or don’t heroes do christmas shopping?”  
A chuckle, and then the hero leans against her counter as if they are having a casual chat between neighbours. As if she wans to just borrow a cup of sugar.

“No, we are called Superheroes because we are ahead of our christmas shopping. Already wrapped and put under the tree.”  
“Oh, so you do have someone you are giving those gifts to?”  
This is probably the worst interview setting possible, but Cat can’t help it. This is a prime opportunity, and not even the Daily Planet has ever had a scoop on Superman being this private. The great kryptonian bake off, she can basically see the headline.  
Sadly, Supergirl doesn’t seem to be falling for it. She pushes off the counter, apparently headed for the window.  
“Even if I did, I am not sure I would want to read about that in your magazine, Miss Grant.”

“You can’t blame me for trying, can you?”  
Supergirl then laughs, and what a sound. It almost seems to illuminate the kitchen, and Cat chides herself to keep the emotional nonsense for the christmas article she’ll still have to put out.  
“I am not blaming you, Miss Grant. I am just not in the mood for an interview.” Supergirl takes a long look at the burnt cookies, and then looks at Cat with an expression the media tycoon can’t quite read. “But I might be in the mood to bake some cookies.” 

 

Cat watches Supergirl tap an egg against the edge of the mixing bowl, probably as careful as she can muster. Egg yolk and shells go flying through her kitchen as the egg detonates like a grenade, and it takes all of Cat’s manners not to laugh as she offers Supergirl a dishcloth to wipe the goo off her fingers.  
“That makes five.”

The heroine huffs, starts to clean herself up; and Cat can’t help but observe that the costume somehow seems to repell any dirt that might want to stain it. Thankfully Supergirl has taken off the cape and draped it over the chair already, because Cat really doubts that egg would look good on such a dashing shade of red.  
“Cracking eggs is a bit of a problem.” Supergirl says this with a pout that yet again reminds Cat of her assistant, and she shuffles closer, hips brushing against the fabric of the iconic red skirt as she does so. 

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Cat muses, while she cracks the four eggs they will need for the dough without any hitch. “We never think about what superstrength means for the daily life.” But of course, it makes sense. People who do have the power to hold up buildings probably fare less well when it comes to fine motor skills. 

Next to her Supergirl just shrugs, and ushers the rest of the destroyed egg into a designer trashcan. Cat briefly wonders wether she should go with a different color sheme next year. Something warmer maybe. Red seems nice. “You get used to it.”

“I suppose so.” Even during that very arkward hug they exchanged once, or while catching her, Supergirl has never accidentally used enough force to bruise. It only dawns on Cat now how hard that must have been, how much control it really takes. “Do you also get used to kneading dough?”

 

Apparently she did, because the dough is nice and ready within mere moments, and although the table creaks in protest once or twice, it’s rolled out and waiting for the (for once not figuratively) cookie cutters. 

“What is that?” It’s Supergirl’s turn to chuckle as she holds up one of the little metal frames.  
“It’s a space ship.” Cat replies, matter of factly, and presses the face of a little martian into the dough. “I don’t know about you, but reindeers are so very overused, it’s a cliché. And I would rather avoid those.”  
And Carter is way more interested in space than Rudolph the Reindeer, nowadays. It only seemed appropriate. “So? What are you waiting for, girl of steel? We have a lot of dough to go through.” 

Working with Supergirl is surprisingly easy, even after she disappears for a moment, and then comes back with a whole bag of regular christmas cookie cutters, insisting that the little martians probably look even cuter with santa hats on. After a moment of silent protest, Cat does have to admit that the kryptonian is actually right. It is kind of cute, whimsical at the same time, and so she agrees.

They work for almost one and a half hours, side by side, while they put little santa hats on aliens, make the reindeer pull a UFO, and also make sure that Santa gets his own laser weapon. Cat almost can’t believe that she even missed the radio play ‘Last Christmas’ until Supergirl softly hums along when the song comes around for the third time. It’s all so domestic and warm that Cat would have ripped right into the editing department for submitting this as an article, as such saccharine sweet things are for movies, not for real life.

And yet here they are, Cat’s hair is a mess and there is flour and some traces of sugar sticking to her hands, her cheek and even the one pair of jeans that she owns for actually doing housework, and she feels oddly content. Maybe even happy. She hasn’t taken a single mood lifter yet.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just use your heat vision? They should be done in an instant, right?”  
Supergirl does not even stop, she just puts the tray into the oven, and then closes the lid. “Not really, no. It’s not quite the same, baking something for one minute at a 1000°, or 15 minutes at 200°.”

That makes sense. It makes sense, and Cat hates it if other people are outsmarting her. Supergirl will have to pay for this. And she does, because she might be used to fighting aliens and saving whole cities, but she shies away the moment Cat points the camera of her phone on her.  
“It’s not meant for publication.” But Cat does put the camera down. She might not have ethics as a journalist, she clearly still has them as a mother. “It’s just…. My son, Carter, he is a major fan of yours. Seeing you in this kitchen, well.. “ It would probably make his Christmas Eve. More than Cat spending a fortune on his presents, more than her asking Kara for the recipe for the christmas cookies that Carter had enjoyed so much at the beginning of the month. 

Cat is not about to explain that though. She will not beg for something, and she will not use her children to get a picture when there is even the slightest chance that Supergirl might think that she is just using her son as a means to an end. Whatever her mother says about her morals, she hasn’t stooped that low yet. 

Supergirl looks at her for a moment, then turns to the last patch of dough they still have to cut into little, merry christmas aliens. “You might want to turn on the light before taking a picture. Pretty dark outside already.” 

 

“There we go!”  
Supergirl turns around to her, holding the tray with the cookies, and Cat feels a little like an idiot for having reached for the oven mitts in the first place. Right. Supergirl. Of course she can take hot trays out of an oven without burning herself. 

“I suppose they do not look horrible.” Cat finally concedes. They look pretty darn good, really, picture perfect. Does being a kryptonian also mean having a ‘perfect cookie’ sensor? Or is it just the amazing sense of smell?  
In any case, Cat starts to take the cookies off the tray with a spatula, because as helpful as Supergirl has been, this is another ‘fine motor skills’ task, and she really doesn’t have the time to start all over again before Carter’s dad drops him off here.

“You know what’s strange?” She doesn’t look at Supergirl while she speaks, maybe because she remembers the last time they had this kind of conversation. “I am quiet sure those cookies turned out flawlessly; and you didn’t even ask me for a recipe when we got started on them.” The very recipe her assistant had given to her, because Carter had been head over heels for Kara’s cookies at the office. A supposed family recipe from the Danvers, not from some hipster food blog on the internet.

She does glance up, as shy as Cat Grant can be, and is ready to see Supergirl already on the balcony and taking off, because of their unspoken agreement not to talk about true identities. Instead she is faced with the iconic ‘not S’ on a rather muscular chest, and Supergirl’s form towering over her. 

“Mistletoe.”  
Before Cat can ask what that means, a pair of strong hands settles on her hip, holding her in place while warm lips a pressed to her own in a gentle, soft kiss. 

The whole kitchen is spinning and she feels as if she has to hold on to Supergirl, feeling the amazingly soft fabric of the cape under her fingers.

She can’t tell how long it lasts, but eventually Supergirl let’s go, and Cat instantly mourns the loss of warmth and the stable presence.She wants to say something, but Supergirl just steps away with a smile. 

“Merry Christmas, Miss Grant.”

The protest that forms when Supergirl disappears to the balcony dies on Cat’s lips when she hears her phone ring, the one ringtone that’s reserved for Carter. Damn. She’ll have to take this, even if it’s just to hear that he’ll be home in an hour. He always calls ahead of time, being the good boy that he is.  
So Cat does pick up and listens, even though she knows that Supergirl will be gone by the time she turns around. She does pick up the spatula and cookie she dropped, and smiles when she sees that the broken cookie actually was in the shape of a mistletoe before she got interrupted. 

Cat ends the call and stares at her phone for a moment, liking her lips while she looks at the picture of Supergirl, up to her ellbows in dough in Cat’s kitchen.  
One hour. Should be plenty time. Cat presses the speed dial button that is assigned to her assistent, and grins as she hears Kara pick up her phone. “Keira? I am going to email you a picture and I will need this printed before six tonight.Chop Chop.”


End file.
